


Of the Night

by hataru



Series: Safe Haven [1]
Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alucard has arrived, Animal Instincts, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Daddy Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Character of Color, Fix-It of Sorts, Graphic Depictions of Illness, He gets choked, Hybrids, If they don’t kill you then their shitty jokes will, Internal Conflict, Interspecies Relationship(s), Maud is having a bad life, Maud needs a hug, Pack Dynamics, Paranoia, Period Typical Attitudes, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Trevor Belmont, Secrets, Slow Burn, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, The comedic duo Maud and Trevor, Trevor Belmont is a good friend, Vampires, Warlocks, Werewolves, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22756507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hataru/pseuds/hataru
Summary: While searching for the thing that will cure the illness that threatens to kill her by the end of the week, a hybrid bumps into the last of the Belmonts and gets roped into fulfilling a prophecy with drunkard, a Speaker and a dhampir too pretty for his own good.
Relationships: Alucard (Castlevania)/Other(s), Alucard (Castlevania)/Reader, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Original Female Character(s), Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Series: Safe Haven [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658272
Comments: 19
Kudos: 126





	1. Amalgam

**Author's Note:**

> season 3 came out today and i fucking love alucard, so take this nearly 4k mess and enjoy
> 
> EDIT: thEY DID US SO FUCKING DIRTYYYY UGHHH

She awoke some time before dawn, an uncomfortable ache in her bones and a throb in her temples. Maud sighed heavily through her nose and rose from her messy bed, her bare feet padding across the wooden floors. The woman rubbed the back of her neck while approaching the wash basin in the corner of the room. The water she poured into the bowl was cold, as expected, and made the tips of her fingers sting as she cupped some in her hands to wash her face. Maud grabbed the strip of linen resting on the edge of the wash basin and began the task of scrubbing her teeth clean. 

With something like hesitance, Maud carefully rubbed the cloth against the long, sharp canines in her mouth. She refused to acknowledge her reflection in the mirror, which hung from the wall atop the basin, and dried her face with a towel after rinsing the linen. Maud traded her short night gown for a white collared shirt with a leather vest and dark trousers. A white lock — stark against the rest of her dark brown hair — tickled her chin as she sat on her bed and leaned forwards to slide her sock clad feet into a pair of boots. She then tied her shoulder length hair into a knot, both white and brown strands framing the sharp edge of her jaw. 

Maud massaged her temples with the index and middle fingers of her left hand while opening the door with her right. She closed it silently behind herself and ventured down the hall. She froze mid-step however, when the sound of her mother’s muffled weeping came from one of the closed doors. Her silver gaze met the floorboards in something like shame and she hurried her pace to the front door of the house. She all but yanked her cloak from the rack and fled from the house, throwing it over her shoulders. 

She tied its strings into a small knot, the grey fur on the cloak’s hood tickling the back of her neck. Maud took a hatchet along with a bow, a quiver full of arrows and a large sack with her. She rested the wooden handle of the hatchet on her shoulder, trudging further into the wilderness surrounding her home. She walked until she started going further up the mountain and then some more, her breaths coming out in small clouds. The sun was struggling to peek through the barricade of grey clouds when she got to her usual spot. 

Maud walked to the old stump in the middle of the clearing and dropped her things at its base. She lifted the first log on to the stump, her rough fingers — sunkissed and calloused — becoming a tad wet from the morning dew on the bark. She dried her hands on her trousers before taking the hatchet in hand. Her lungs expanded within their ossein cage, filling up with the frigid mountain air as she breathed in deeply while lifting the cutting tool over her head. The hatchet was swung down with her next exhale, a white cloud that quickly dispersed, and the log was split into two pieces. The woman left the hatchet embedded into the stump and set the pieces of wood aside to replace them with another log, allowing her mind to wander. 

_Careful fingers travelled down the length of her throat, prodding and massaging the aching flesh as they made their way to the middle of her bound chest. They made their way to her bruised ribs and Maud clenched her jaw, focusing on the fireplace instead of the screaming pain in her middle. The doctor’s knowing gaze bore into the side of her face. Her mother watched from the sidelines, looking awfully small while sitting on an armchair and wringing her hands anxiously._

_“You’re a bit malnourished,” The doctor murmured, prodding the visible rib on Maud’s side with her finger. Greta lifted her head to gaze at Maud’s face once more, “Have you been eating well?”_

_Maud ignored the way her mother stared at her almost accusingly and lowered her gaze to meet the doctor’s eyes. “Three meals a day. The problem is keeping them down.” She replied in a murmur, afraid she’d cough if she spoke any louder._

_A troubled look took over the doctor’s expression, but she quickly masked it as she moved over to examine Maud’s hands. Greta pressed her thumbs into the middle of Maud’s palms and she clenched her jaw to hold back any noises, but she couldn’t help the twitch of her fingers. Maud doubted the doctor didn’t notice, but the woman didn’t mention it and instead gestured for her to open her mouth._

_The younger woman did so, allowing the doctor to examine her gums and teeth, focusing on the state of her fangs. Greta looked mildly relieved at what she saw, white teeth and relatively pink gums. Something in the back of Maud’s throat tickled and burned and she jerked back to twist her head away as harsh coughs made their way out of her mouth. The brunette covered her mouth with a closed fist. The dry coughs became wet as something travelled up her throat._

_The coughs died soon enough and when Maud took her hand away, she found that it was speckled in dark blood. She grimaced, listening to her mother’s horrified gasp and watched Greta’s expression twist in dismay. The doctor stepped back and rubbed the bridge of her nose, “...I don’t have much knowledge of hybrids and their needs, my actions until this point have been based solely on theory—”_

_“How much time do I have?” Maud asked, gaze set downward._

_“A week or two, perhaps even less.” Greta replied tersely, as if isolating herself from the situation, and turned to face Maud’s mother. “I apologize, Alba.” She spoke and swiftly left the room, rubbing at her eyes. Maud nodded to herself, resigned, and chose to stare at the floorboards rather than acknowledge her mother’s heart wrenching cries._

Maud tied the fresh cut wood together with strong strips of cloth and proceeded to place them in the bag. The sun was higher up in the sky now, but the cold hadn’t left. The brunette let out a puff of air through her mouth, blowing the white strands from her face, and took the bow and quiver in hand. Dried leaves crunched under her boots as she made her way past the treeline. She hooked a finger under her sleeves and rolled them up to her elbows. 

She moved across the forest grounds with care, silent, and drew a single arrow from the quiver. Maud focused on her hearing, her silver eyes slowly surveying her surroundings. Her gaze fell upon a stag, fairly large, feasting upon roots and fallen fruit. She lined up the arrow and took aim, the feathers on the arrow brushing against her cheek. Maud exhaled softly, preparing herself to let go, when her vision swam and blurred. The ground spun under her feet and her hands shook terribly. Her weapons were thrown to the side — alerting the stag and allowing it to flee — while she stumbled into a tree for support.

Harsh coughs wracked her weakened body and Maud dug her nails into the bark of the tree, squeezing her eyes shut. The taste of coins flooded her mouth as her coughs became wet, phlegm and coagulated blood rising from her throat. The brunette groaned miserably and spat a glob of sickness into the ground. She opened her eyes and wiped away the blood from her lips with her fingers, rubbing her palm against her dark trousers. 

Maud straightened and stumbled as she regained her balance. She took note of the missing stag and cursed. Irritated, she chose to abandon her bow in the forest and instead marched back into the clearing to gather her supplies. Muttering curses and complaints, Maud made her way back down the mountain much quicker. The bag was dropped on the porch and Maud stomped her feet firmly to get rid of any dirt clinging to her boots before entering her home. 

It was quiet, she noticed in relief, her mother must have fallen asleep. That was for the best, Maud supposed. She’d much rather do what she was about to without her mother lurking. Maud searched for paper and graphite around the house, staying away from the bedrooms. The hybrid tucked her few white locks behind her ear and fell to her knees in front of the chest pushed against the corner of the room, a few feet from the fireplace. She pried it open with care and halted at what she found inside.

Like she thought, there was paper and writing materials inside, but also many portraits and sketches. Maud looked over her shoulder once, her dulled eyes sweeping the area, before turning her attention to the chest’s contents. She took one of the portraits between her fingers, this one upside down, and slowly turned it. It had been done in oil paints, very well done and preserved. Her mother’s face, younger, smiled back at her from her place in a tall man’s arms. This was the first time Maud saw his face. 

Luscious sandy brown curls, a few shades darker than hers, framed his angular face and complimented his fair skin. Brown eyes stared back at her with something akin to mischief, his lips spread into a grin that displayed pearly white teeth and a pair of long fangs. Maud could see herself in him. In the hard edge of his jaw, in the texture of his hair, in the shape of his nose, in his smile, and suddenly she felt very very ashamed. After all, she’d been tormenting her mother with the face of her absent lover… Only to threaten her with the sudden and inevitable death of their only child. 

Maud frowned down at her mother’s pointed silver gaze and placed the portrait back into the chest. She took a sheet of blank paper along with a piece of graphite. Leaning over the table, graphite ghosting over the paper, she stared. Her heart was pounding away in her chest and cold sweat slowly gathered in the back of her neck. Maud took her lip between her teeth, fangs digging into the soft flesh, and started writing before she could regret it.

**Dear Mother,**

**By the time you wake, I will be long gone. I have gone in search for what we believe is what will cure me. Please, be patient and try not to worry. I will be back by the end of the week, hopefully accompanied. And, if not, I would like you to abandon this home and find Greta. Move on without me. Be happy. I love you, Mama.**

**Forever yours,**

**Matilda**

Maud set the graphite down and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms, exhaling shakily. She took one last look at the home she grew up in and fled. Maud set up a quick pace in favor of the wind so her mother wouldn’t be able to track her and didn’t look back. Her bones ached and her limbs quivered, but she kept running. 

_“Maud— Matilda!”_

_Maud turned around with furrowed brows, her cloak swishing with her movements. Her fresh kill, a pair of rabbits, hung from a rope held in her left hand. Greta burst through the treeline, holding her skirts up with one hand while holding a thick book to her chest with the other. Her black hair was a frazzled mess, held back with a plum colored cloth tied into a knot. That, and the shadows under her eyes, struck Maud as odd. Greta was always a woman that took good care of herself, to see her like this was concerning._

_“Greta.” Maud said in a hush, attempting to calm her as the shorter woman finally reached her._

_“It was there! Behind the shelves, they were hidden, but I found them—” Greta babbled, going through the loose papers she held in her hands, filled with notes and sketches and other unidentifiable scribbles._

_The younger woman placed a hand on her arm, a concerned expression marring her face, “Greta, what are you talking about? What did you find?” Maud queried._

_Greta finally stopped babbling and took a steadying breath before looking up at her. “I found the cure.”_

_Maud felt like all the air had been knocked out of her lungs by an unseen force and fumbled with her catch lest she let it fall. She ducked her head, white and brown mildly obscuring her vision as she gave the witch doctor her undivided attention. ”What do you mean you found the cure?” It came out as a hiss, disbelief thick in her voice._

_Adjusting the book and its loose papers, Greta looked up at her. “I mean exactly that. I found this in the library, hidden behind the shelves. I don’t know who wrote these or who hid them—” She paused, taking a deep breath. “But the answers are here.”_

_And for a while, Maud could only stare. After countless nights without proper sleep, after days of aching bones and harsh coughs and shaking hands, they’ve found it. However, instead of the expected joy warming the chill in her bones, she felt the cruel claws of dread dig into the soft flesh of her stuttering heart._

_She lifted her arm to rub the back of her wrist against her temple as a sigh slipped past her lips, “Why do I have a feeling I’m going to strongly dislike what I have to do to get it?”_

_Greta smiled, a forced twist of her lips meant to lighten the mood but instead fed the dread inside her with too much teeth. “Oh, you’ll_ hate _it.”_

_“Shit.” Maud sighed again, sounding awfully tired. She dropped her arm, her catch swaging from its rope in her grip, and pressed her lips together. “Alright, out with it then. What do I have to do?” She asked begrudgingly, preparing herself for the answer she dreaded._

_“These notes were written in a great deal of languages, but in the end they all tell the same tale.” Greta stated, tapping slender fingers on the worn spine of the thick book. “The hybrid in question must find the one who sired them,” Her smile became strained and Maud’s mouth snapped shut with the click of teeth. “And drink their blood.”_

_“Oh, fuck me.”_

Maud honestly had no fucking idea where she was at this point. She’d been following the subtle tug in the back of her head and kept running through nothing but wilderness until nightfall. There were no inns or huts in the area, and she’d seen hide nor hair of any humans. She simply found a large tree with protruding roots when her knees trembled and buckled and threatened to collapse under her exhaustion, slumping at its base and curling up in her cloak before letting sleep drag her into the void. 

It was the screech of something unholy that awoke her sometime later, when the moon was high in the sky. Her eyes snapped open and fell upon a large beast, covered in matted fur and sticky blood the same color as its beady eyes. Its long fangs gleamed in the moonlight and it lowered its skinny body to the ground, flaring its wings out to appear larger than it was with another shriek spilling from its bloody maw.

Maud pressed her back against the bark and shoved against the roots to straighten her spine. Her lips pursed in recognition. This beast, smelling of rotting flesh and sulfur, was one of Dracula’s awful little monstrosities. Greta had spoken of them once after her travels, her voice filled with disgust as she spoke of Dracula’s hordes and his Forgemasters. They stuck to small villages and foul cities like Gresit, so Maud hadn’t come across them in the mountains. Until now, that is.

Her fingers tingled and ached as her nails grew in length, sharpening into claws. She held her breath and grit her teeth, every muscle tense as the demon took sharp inhales of her scent and cocked its head in what seemed to be confusion. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the ugly thing lunged. Maud jumped to the side and threw her arm out, digging her fingers to the knuckle into the beast’s bared throat. It shrieked and screeched, caught off guard, flailing wildly. 

Heart racing in her chest from an emotion she didn’t want to recognize, Maud shoved it against the tree and slashed her other hand down its face. She bared her teeth in a snarl in response to its pained cries and plunged her thumb into its eye socket with a repulsive squelch. Blood immediately squirted out of the wound as something _popped_ under her claw and splashed on to her jaw, dripping down the side of her neck in warm trails. She caught some of the crimson droplets on her tongue in reflex and her stomach tightened in a sudden, ravenous hunger. 

Maud latched herself on to the other side of its throat and dug her sharp fangs as far as they could go into its dark flesh before she could reconsider. The creature shrieked by her ear, bucking and kicking fruitlessly. She groaned loudly in satisfaction as warm blood gushed into her mouth, her teeth tearing off chunks of meat as her jaw worked more of its flesh into her mouth. Maud ripped her fingers and fangs out of its throat, eliciting a strangled cry. Blood trickled from the gapping wounds and she switched to its shoulder, tugging and clawing at it insistently.

The limb gave away soon enough, bones popping and snapping while muscle tore and came apart. The hybrid closed her mouth around the socket to catch the next gush of blood, relishing in the hellish screeching and weak struggles. Taking advantage of its open mouth, she bit its jaw and hooked her fingers into its maw, over its teeth. She bit and chewed on its flesh, swallowing mouthful after mouthful. She slowly pulled down on it’s open mouth until its jaw cracked and came off with a bit of resistance and a gurgled shriek. The hybrid yanked its head down stuck her tongue into the demon’s good eye, fangs scraping the bloody socket. It slipped into her mouth after a harsh suckle, wet and squishy, the optic nerve stubbornly hanging on until she jerked her head away to break it off.

The creature’s body jumped and twitched in its last moments, gurgling and choking on the blood from its torn throat. Feeling it go limp, Maud finally stopped and stumbled back. Her chest heaved with gasping breaths and she found her belly full, finally agreeing with its contents. Exhausted, the hybrid decided not to think about it and instead stumbled away into the roots of another tree while ignoring the blood drying on her face and hands. She turned her back on the dead thing and pulled her furred hood over her head before resting her head against the bark and closing her eyes. She dreamt of violence and blood and gore.

When morning came, it seemed to be just as unforgiving as the night before, since she awoke with a silver sword just an inch from her throat. Feeling more annoyed than fearful, Maud’s lip curled over her grit teeth and she slowly looked up at its owner. The man’s icy blue eyes regarded her, narrowed and untrusting as a frown tugged at his lips. A vertical scar marred the left side of his face, pink and thin as it began an inch above his brow and trailed down to the middle of his scruffy cheek. His dark hair was messy and unkempt, curling around his neck, but Maud guessed she wasn’t any better. 

A dark cloak with white fur was draped over his shoulders, parted by the arm that held the sword against her neck. Her eyes fell upon the family crest branded on the breast of his shirt, recognition making her heart race. Maud cursed her luck and locked eyes with the monster hunter, the Belmont. The man’s nose wrinkled at the sight of her teeth and the blade came closer to her vulnerable neck as his eyebrows knitted together.

“What the fuck are you supposed to be?” The Belmon’s words were mildly slurred, slow and low as he spoke. Was he… hungover? The smell of booze and filth assaulted her nose a moment later and a bit of tension melted from her shoulders. A drunk Belmont was still a dangerous thing, the bastards killed demons with their bare hands back in the day. If Maud made it out of this alive and healthy, Greta was going to pay. 

“Thought you Belmonts knew all about the supernatural.” Maud quipped before she could bite her tongue and curled her fingers into the dirt. The sharp tip of the blade poked at her throat and she tensed again, going silent. 

“A vampire can’t travel by daylight, a dhampir wouldn’t have attacked a night creature like that, and a werewolf would have torn that fucker to bits and moved on.” Belmont listed off, slowly adding pressure to the blade at her throat. “You fucking ate its face and took a bloody nap until sunrise. So, I’ll ask again, what the _fuck_ are you supposed to be?” He questioned, the words threatening and much more clear than before. The slur in his voice was gone, as if it never existed.

It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Or maybe that was the sickness.

Her throat tickled insistently and her mouth filled with excess saliva. Maud’s body jerked against her will, startling the Belmont into taking a step back, and she whipped to the side to heave and vomit a mix of black blood and phlegm. She coughed harshly, blinking away the tears in her eyes and spat out a clot. Her hood had fallen off and her hair was coming loose from its knot, white and brown strands obscuring her view. Maud tilted her head and stared at Belmont through the gap. His eyes were wide in shock and his expression was coated in something like disgust and hint of pity. The sword was no longer pointed at her, its tip towards the ground and held slack in his grip.

A bitter grin twisted at her bloody lips, baring pink teeth in his direction. “Since you want to know so fucking badly, I’ll humor you.” Maud rasped, breathless. “I’m an abomination on the verge of death.” 

“Hybrid.” The word slipped from his lips in a mutter and he rubbed his face harshly with his hand. “Fuck me.” The man sounded so conflicted and done with life that she couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled from her throat, sounding garbled and pathetic.

God, her life was a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up, gang, this is gonna be a wild ride


	2. Necropolis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maud had never been outside of the village in the mountains — composed of the coven of witches and a small handful of humans — much less in a city, but Gresit wasn’t leaving much of an impression. Crumbling homes, cracked cobblestone roads, bits of blood and gore clinging to the walls, and eerily silent citizens cowering in makeshift shelters made with cloth and wood.
> 
> “Lovely.” She muttered, swatting at a fly that buzzed by her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um, this was meant to be like 2 or 3k, but i got a bit excited to get to sypha and alucard lmao. anyways, hope you enjoy!

The Belmont wasn’t all that bad, Maud decided after the man had sighed heavily and sheathed his sword in order to help her to her feet. She saw the flash of muted surprise in his eyes when he realized she was just a bit taller than he was. He got over it soon enough and picked up the edge of his cloak and started wiping at her mouth and chin, incoherent grumbling leaving his mouth. Maud watched him carefully, unmoving, and he met her gaze when he was finished. Belmont pursed his lips and scratched at his jaw, letting out another sigh that was much lighter than the first. He offered her the last of his water, which she took after a moment of her usual hesitance when he shook the container insistently. 

Maud drank slow sips of the cool liquid, letting it travel down her throat and wash away the taste of coins. “You had a sword to my throat and didn’t kill me. Why’s that, Belmont?” She queried in a murmur after a moment of silence, passing him the empty container. 

“Felt wrong.” Belmont replied tersely, tucking away the container in the safety of his belt while avoiding her dull silver gaze. “You’re sick, didn’t fight back even though you ate half of a night creature’s fucking face—”

“Please, don’t remind me.” Maud interrupted, frowning and rubbing the bridge of her nose in mild disgust. “I was hungry and delirious.” Belmont let out a huff of air at her words, something almost like a little laugh, and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. He sobered up soon enough.

“What are you doing out here?” 

The woman let out a long sigh and slid down to sit on one of the roots, Belmont following suit. “Have you ever seen a cross between a vampire and a werewolf, Belmont?” She asked.

Belmont turned his head to fix his stare on her, “Not really.”

“That’s because they always die at a young age, they get sick and their bodies fail. I was lucky to last this long.” Maud commented softly, taking the white strand of her between her fingers and playing with it absentmindedly. “I have until the end of the week, maybe less. I plan on finding the person who holds the cure before that. Vampire’s blood, my father’s.” 

The man let out a low hum, elbows on his knees and back hunched. He was gazing down at the dirt under his boots before lifting his eyes to stare at her again, expression guarded but still mildly sympathetic. It was strange, really— seeing a _Belmont_ talking nicely to a creature of the night such as herself. She’d been taught all her life that the Belmonts were nothing but merciless killers, hacking away at anything different without the exclusion of innocent children. But this man…

“What if you don’t find him by then?” Belmont asked in a quiet voice. She found it almost pleasant.

Maud shrugged a shoulder, already having thought of it more than too many times. “I’ll find a nice tree to sit under and sleep forever.” She replied and a loose smile tugged at the corners of her lips. He frowned at her, however. “It’s fine, though. Means Mother can move on.” Maud added at the look on his face. 

“I met a man once, a long time ago,” Belmont began as he looked into the distance. “He gave me shelter for a while. He was a werewolf.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head, dark hair tickling his scarred cheek. “Werewolves are innocent people cursed with madness and bloodthirst, unable to be cured.” 

“...Did you kill him?” Maud asked after a moment.

Belmont shook his head. “Felt wrong.” He looked at her as he said it, the curl of his lip akin to a small smile. She found herself smiling along, a small thing to match his. “Trevor.” Belmont finally introduced himself.

She gave a curt nod, “Maud.” 

Trevor rose from his seat and brushed himself off before turning to face her. “Let’s get going then.”

“What?” 

He offered her his hand, “I’m going to help you find your bloodsucker father so you don’t die.” Trevor explained and moved his fingers insistently, reminiscent of what he’d done with his container when she hesitated. It was cute, but that wasn’t the point.

Maud stared at him, thick brows furrowed in confusion, “Why—” 

“Feels right and I have nothing else to do. Now let’s get moving, Gresit is a few miles away and hopefully we’ll get there before lunch.” Trevor — that strange, strange man that smelt of sadness — continued and caught her by the elbow when she didn’t take his hand. Maud decided to humor him, letting herself be pulled up and guided through the forest. 

“I’m not made of glass, Trevor.” Maud finally said after the sixth time he turned his head to make sure she hadn’t tripped over anything. His hold on her arm hadn’t loosened in the least and she was getting irritated. “I’m a beast, not a lady.” 

The Belmont stopped and looked over at her, arching a dark eyebrow. “Yes, the same beast who collapsed and almost vomited blood all over my boots.” Trevor shot back and Maud stared at him.

“...Good point.”

_Maud rubbed a hand over her face before pushing her bangs back and swallowing hard. “Do you even hear yourself, woman?” She finally burst, voice a whispered scream. Her expression was twisted in something like a grimace, disbelieving._

_Greta frowned and stared up at her, holding the thick book against her chest. “Don’t speak to me as if I were_ mad _, Matilda.” She spat, indignant, and Maud rolled her eyes. “And yes, I know what I said, but it’s our only shot at getting rid of this bloody sickness.”_

_The hybrid paced back and forth, dry leaves and twigs crunching under her feet. Her heart stuttered in her chest and each breath felt constricted. “Have you told my mother?” Maud asked, setting her hands on her hips and turning her head to look down at the smaller woman._

_“No.”_

_“That’s good.” She sighed with the nod of her head, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “We won’t tell her yet, not until I’ve left.” Maud continued tersely and wet her lips with the swipe of her tongue, brushing against the fangs in her mouth. “Where do I find him? Cian Crowley?”_

_“There’s the thing.” The witch adjusted her hold on the book and took a deep breath before continuing, “The last thing the coven heard about Crowley, was that he’d left to join Dracula’s court.”_

True to his word, Maud and Trevor arrived at Gresit just in time for lunch. To out it lightly, the city was a fucking mess. The smell of shit and piss mixed with decomposing flesh made her nose wrinkle. She gathered the ends of her cloak in her hand as they made their way into the city through the garderobes— a sort of plumbing system that allowed human waste to be thrown out into the surrounding area outside of the city. Fucking disgusting, but it was their only way in. 

Maud let go of her cloak, squinting at the rays of the midday sun, and followed Trevor up the stone steps. He lifted an arm to stop her and Maud rose an eyebrow when he took out a dagger from his boot, slowly approaching the guard, whose back was facing them. The man’s steady heartbeat and slow breathing indicated he was asleep. She rolled her eyes and grabbed the Belmont by the hood of his cloak, giving a relatively soft tug that almost had him falling on his ass. Trevor turned his head to look at her and opened his mouth to say something, but she simply tapped her ear. He looked confused for the fraction of a second before the guard let out an awfully loud snore that reached his own ears. 

“Oh.” Trevor let out with a small chuckle, sheathing the dagger in his boot. She gave a small snort, amused, and walked past the unconscious man to enter the nearly empty city. Maud had never been outside of the village in the mountains — composed of the coven of witches and a small handful of humans — much less in a city, but Gresit wasn’t leaving much of an impression. Crumbling homes, cracked cobblestone roads, bits of blood and gore clinging to the walls, and eerily silent citizens cowering in makeshift shelters made with cloth and wood.

A pair of men lifted one of the mangled corpses from the streets, guts spilling out and crawling with maggots, and started walking away with it. Out of morbid curiosity, she followed them with Trevor in her heels. The two men reached a bridge and moved towards the ledge, promptly tossing the body to the river below. Maud leaned over and saw that the river had been completely covered in countless bodies, the once clean water now a river of blood and shit. Her lip curled over her teeth in disgust.

“Lovely.” She muttered, swatting at a fly that buzzed by her ear. Trevor stared down at the pile with a scowl, his eyes dark as he spat down a glob of spit at the macabre scene before moving on in silence. Maud stepped away from the ledge, following him closely and tugging her hood over her head. She kept her mouth shut, eyeing the bystanders out of the corner of her eye as they whispered to each other. The Belmont guided her through what used to be the plaza, now filled with poor merchants and filthy tents. Maud sighed out a small cloud, tucking her hands under her cloak for warmth as they neared one of the stands. Dried meats hung from hooks, a plump woman cleaning her knife with a white rag. 

“What will one coin buy me?” Trevor enquired, holding up the silver piece. The woman paused to look them over with too small eyes, dull in color and nearly lifeless, her gaze lingering on Maud’s tall form a bit too long. Maud pressed her lips together and moved her eyes elsewhere.

“Bit of dried goat,” The woman spoke with a bit of an accent, tilting her head to look at them better. “Haven’t seen you two around here before.” She added afterwards, glancing at Maud once more. The hybrid let out a small huff through her nose, subtly tugging her cloak closed. The people of Gresit were used to small, dainty women rather than brawny ones with rough hands and looming statures that wore trousers and boots instead of pretty dresses and slippers.

Who knows, maybe she even thought Maud was a man. 

“We’re just passing through.” Trevor said swiftly and nodded at the meat hanging from the hook. “I’ll take it, thanks.” 

“You want to pass through quicker,” The woman suggested, discarding the rag to slice a hefty chunk of dried meat. 

“Yeah, I guess you’ve got some troubles here.” The Belmont replied, his icy blues sweeping over their less than wonderful surroundings. Maud’s eyes fell on the intestines poised on top of some tents, as though they were decorations. Their situation could be described as _trouble_ , she supposed. “Is there a defense effort?”

The merchant shook her head once. “Don’t need it. We’ve got a tribe of Speakers in the city.” She pointed out, turning her wide body to hand Trevor his portion of meat. “Once we’ve done what needs to be done, the demons will leave us alone.” She concluded, speaking as if it were the most obvious thing. 

Maud bit her tongue to avoid lashing out at the ignorant human, the familiar taste of coins flooding over her tastebuds when her fangs pierced the tender organ. The tissue healed sluggishly in her mouth, something she chose to ignore as Trevor set the money on the counter and turned to offer her a bite. Maud shook her head and placed a hand over her stomach to signal that she was still full from her last meal. The man shrugged a shoulder and tore into the dried goat meat with his teeth. 

Their search continued around the makeshift marketplace, asking the merchants about Dracula’s hordes of demons. In the end, they all said the same thing— the hordes came each night and killed everything in sight, leaving only when the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Maud chose to remain silent — hidden under the shadows of her cloak — knowing that she already caught their unwanted attention with the color of her skin, and how bad things would go if they saw the fangs in her mouth. There was one man in particular that said something that caught her undivided attention.

“There’s an old story, the Sleeping Soldier. They said he was a hero hundreds of years ago, but now he sleeps under the catacombs.” The man spoke, his brown eyes awfully kind and wrinkled at the corners. He had a strong heartbeat, steady as a river, and his scent was almost nostalgic— something like home.

“What for?” Maud found herself asking despite knowing she should keep her big mouth shut for once. If the man saw her fangs, he didn’t give much of a reaction other than the particular curl of his lip. It almost seemed like a small, knowing smile.

“To wait until he’s needed again, of course.” He continued, looking at her this time as she peered at him with dulled silver eyes from under her furred hood. “I think he’ll come back,” The kind man added with the nod of his head.

“Really?” Trevor asked, and Maud could see the soft smile on his face from the corner of her eye. 

The man closed his eyes for a moment, that kind smile still playing on his lips, “Oh, yes, but keep it quiet.” He advised in a hushed voice. “The new bishop hates the old wisdom. Dracula’s monsters come at night, but the bishop’s men come during the day. You know what I mean?” He enquired.

And unfortunately, they did. 

“You know what I think?” A pretty young woman with blonde hair asked when they stopped by her. “I think the _Speakers_ make the Sleeping Soldier ill. We have no defenses, so of course Dracula’s bastards come over the wall every night!” She complained, gesturing at their surroundings with her slender hands.

“The bishop will sort things out.” Another man reassured, his posture confident with his arms crossed over his chest. He smelt sour. “This city has, not to put a point too fine on it, _gone to hell_. If the others will just do as he says when he tells us to do it, then all will be in order.” He explained, eyes awfully cruel and _empty_. Maud couldn’t get away from his tent fast enough. 

Orange light peeked, just barely, over the tops of the buildings to shine down on the alley they entered. Trevor offered her the last of his dried goat, waving it in front of her face with the same insistence as before. When Maud tried turning her face away, the Belmont shoved it into her mouth. Maud grumbled, chewing on the tough meat until it traveled down her throat while staring at him pointedly. The little bastard had a small, satisfied smile on his lips. It was nice, this little moment they had, until it wasn’t.

Maud’s expression fell at the sight of a pair of priests flocking an elderly man dressed in blue, a Speaker. They gave him a hard shove in the opposite direction and the frail looking man nearly fell over before regaining his footing. “I warned you.” The bearded priest reminded, taking out a golden stave — ironically shaped like a cross — out of his black robes. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

“You did not listen to me, sir.” The Speaker said in a thick accent, raising his hands in a passive gesture. 

The priest scowled and pointed the end of the stave at the Speaker. “Are you talking back to me?” He nearly snarled. 

The Speaker looked unbothered, gently pushing the stave away from his chest, “No, I’m merely talking _to_ you.” He corrected. “Anyone can see that we are not responsible for what befalls Gresit.” 

Maud stopped, one of her feet sliding across the ground as if to turn in their direction and Trevor hunched slightly, almost curling into himself by her side. “No, keep walking…” Trevor murmured, more to himself than to her.

“So, now I’m _stupid_?” The bearded priest asked, indignant. “I work within the light of God Himself, but you can see things I can’t with your _magic_?” He spat, looming over the poor man.

The Speaker, however, stared up at him placidly as if nothing were wrong. “There’s no magic, sir. We are here to help, that’s all.” He reassured.

The priest leaned down to get closer to his face, his lip curled in rage, “Speakers don’t help. Speakers are _tainted_. You _attract_ evil, and you and yours were told to be out of Gresit by sunset.” He spat, reaching out one of his filthy hands to grab the man’s face and angle it towards the sky. “And see? The sun is up. Take a good look at it, old man.” 

Maud growled under her breath, curling her hands into fists as anger bubbled in the depths of her chest. “Belmont, if you don’t do something, _I_ will.” She threatened in something like a hiss, and heard him curse quietly. 

“Will killing an old man make you less scared of the dark?” The Speaker asked, a shockingly knowing tone in his voice. 

His aggressor pulled back his stave, preparing to hit him with it. “I don’t know. Maybe it will just make me feel better.” 

Trevor whirled around, long cloak flaring out at his abruptness, and fished out his whip. He cracked it through the air with expertise, the leather curling around the stave — and the priest’s hand — before yanking back with a powerful tug. The golden stave clattered to the ground a few feet away and a smile curled at Maud’s lips at the smell of freshly spilt blood and the pained groans of the priest. The three men turned to look at the two figures standing at the entrance of the alley, the wounded man clutching his bleeding hand.

“Oh, hell. I’m sorry,” Trevor gave his empty apologies and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I was trying to snatch the stave out of your hand. How’s your finger?” He asked and raised his index finger, the rest curled around the handle of the whip, gesturing to it. Maud watched everything unfold, highly amused.

“ _What_ fucking finger?!” The priest shouted, rivulets of blood seeping from the stump his index finger used to be.

“That’s no way for a man of the cloth to talk,” Trevor chastised, humor heavy in his voice. “Why don’t you go and get that looked at?” He suggested, once again gesturing vaguely at his own — unharmed — index finger. 

“Kill those bastards!” The bearded priest ordered the bald, frightened looking one.

Maud tilted her head, setting her fists on her hips, “Now, why am I getting included?” She asked, puckering her lips in a small pout.

A loose grin tugged at Trevor’s mouth, “Look, I don’t like priests at the best of times. I mean— I really, _really_ don’t like priests.” He still spoke humorously, but something in his musky scent went sour. “If you leave now, we’ll say no more about it.” 

The bearded priest’s face twisted in rage, “Kill them _now_!” He barked.

“Oh, this is going to get nasty.” Maud hummed, rocking lightly on her heels. Unhelpful, she knew, but it was _funny_. 

“Last warning…” Trevor called and the bald priest looked back at his comrade, conflicted, and took a long knife out of his sleeve. Maud stared at it, mildly surprised, and Trevor raised his eyebrows. “Oh, now, that’s a funny thing for a priest to be carrying. That’s a _thief’s_ knife.” He pointed out, grin widening. The priest hunched, twirling the knife with an awful lot of expertise, and lunged. “Seriously? I’m out of practice, but I’m stone-cold sober.” 

Maud caught the Speaker’s eyes and ignored Trevor’s playful taunts as he fought the priest on nimble feet. She skirted past the dueling men, her cloak fluttering lightly, and neared the old man. He looked up at her for a moment, calm as one could be, before they both turned to watch the spectacle. Trevor cracked the whip one last time, this time coming away with the bald priest’s left eye. The man screamed, clutching at the empty socket, and Maud’s stomach clenched at the sight of steady streams of red spilling from the gaps of his fingers. 

Trevor stared down at the bearded priest with a scowl on his lips, the shadows of the alley making him seem all the more threatening. “Pick him up. Take him back to your church. Don’t bother this man _or_ his people again.” He ordered in a firm voice. The priest scrambled to his feet in a flurry of wounds and blood, supporting his comrade as they fled the alley. 

The Speaker sighed, “The violence wasn’t necessary, sir.” He pointed out, sounding tired. Maud closed her eyes for a moment, fending off a knowing smile. This man was a diplomat, a peacekeeper who loathed all things involving unnecessary conflict and violence— not at all surprising, really. That’s just how Speakers were. “But,” He chuckled and Maud perked up at the soothing sound, “It is appreciated.” 

Gresit still had a chance, it seemed.

“I am the elder of the Codrii Speakers. Thank you for your kindness and, I think, your restraint.” The Elder spoke softly, giving Maud a meaningful glance. 

“You’re welcome, Elder. Can we accompany you to your train?” Trevor enquired, icy blues sweeping over their surroundings for a moment. 

“We have settled here in Gresit. No caravans.” The older man explained shortly before gesturing to the road with a wrinkled hand. “But I would be glad for your company on the way to our lodging.” He admitted, guiding them out of the blood splattered alley.

“How many are you?” 

The Elder tucked his hands into his sleeve, resting them over his abdomen, “Eleven. Although I insist we be counted as twelve.” He replied to Trevor’s question. “One of us is missing, you see.” The man’s expression became grim, his scent changing into something bittersweet. Like the smell of the prairie after a thunderstorm. Whoever was missing was clearly someone very important to the Elder. They came across the lonely house, far from the others and not in the greatest conditions, but still better off than the ones by the plaza. “This is where we live. Please, come inside. Meet my people.”

Maud stepped inside after the Elder, letting her hood fall to her shoulders as Trevor closed the door silently behind them. There was only one window and very little furniture, the room’s darkness chased away by a number of flickering candles. “Elder, we were worried about you.” A young man said, standing up from his makeshift chair. “I told you it was too soon to go outdoors.”

“And I told you it was necessary to offer aid to the people.” The Elder replied swiftly. “However, I was met by some of the Christian priests.” 

The young man’s brown eyes widened slightly. “Are you alright?” He asked, concern muddling his features. 

The Elder turned to smile at Trevor and Maud, “Thanks to these two.” He replied. “Although I fear there may be trouble ahead because of it.” 

“What did you do?” The young man questioned Trevor.

Belmont scratched his scruffy cheek, “I’m a little out of practice. They’re both still alive.” Trevor answered, a hint of humor in his voice. His expression fell slightly at the young man’s glare.

“You used _violence_ on them?!” 

The Elder placed a hand on his shoulder. “The younger people believe that words can speak louder than actions.” He explained, a small smile on his lips.

Trevor ran his fingers through his hair, “Well, you’re Speakers. Words are what you do.” He said understandably. Maud gave a short nod, agreeing but unable to speak for the moment. She didn’t know how the rest of the Speakers would react to the revelation of what she was.

The young man’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You know of us?”

The hunter walked over to the window, “My family’s always been on good terms with Speakers, although my father once got into a fight with one.” Trevor explained, resting his arms on the stone sill and leaning his head out to feel the cool breeze. 

“True Speakers do _not_ fight.” The brunet pointed out.

The Belmont turned to face him, leaning his back on the wall, “When he tried to convince a Speaker to have your oral history transcribed on paper.” He continued, a loose smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

This seemed to amuse the Elder as much as it amused Maud. “Ah, yes,” He smiled. “We are quite protective of our ways. History is a living thing. Paper is dead.” The elderly man explained before asking, “Would you like something to eat?”

Maud shook her head and Trevor perked up, “I’d prefer something to drink.” He said.

The Elder smiled, “Arn, bring our friend some water.” 

Trevor’s hopeful smile fell, “ _Oh_ , the— never mind, then.” He said and Maud turned away, placing a closed fist over her mouth to smother her quiet laughter. The Belmont kicked her ankle with his foot, but it did nothing to quell her amusement. Did he seriously think _Speakers_ would have _booze_? “Maybe you can just tell me why you’re here.” He asked in a louder voice, brushing past her. 

“Speakers live anywhere they deem right.” Arn shot back, smelling like burning pinewood and something sour. “You _must_ know that.”

“I know Speakers are nomadic tribes.” Trevor replied while tilting his head slightly, unbothered. “You seem to have been here a while.” 

“How do you know that?”

It was Maud who answered Arn’s question this time, mindful of her fangs, “The locals blame you for the attacks.” 

Arn frowned, “That’s the church’s doing. They need something to blame.” 

“To divert people from the truth,” The Elder began, agreeing, “That the church itself brought Dracula’s hordes down on the land.” 

Maud’s expression softened as sympathy pawed at her heart. “For murdering his wife. They burned her at the stake, claiming her to be a witch.” She murmured. The coven had mourned her for days on end, despite most of them not knowing her directly and the fact that she was not really a witch. She could remember the forget-me-nots, the lilies, the lavender candles and the lullabies. Lisa of Lupu was a kind soul taken too soon.

Trevor let out a deep sigh, “Shit.” 

The Elder closed his eyes and nodded. “That is indeed one way of putting it.” 

The Belmont turned on his heel to face the Speakers, “You didn’t answer my question.”

With a sigh of his own, the Elder took a seat and placed his hands on his knees, that melancholic scent emanating from his being. “There is no structure left in Gresit. No doctors, no aid. If you know Speakers, then you know we can’t turn away from those in need.” He told them, sounding terribly conflicted. “That is why we are here.” 

Arn came to their side, “May as well tell them the rest.” He said softly, that angry scent gone. 

Closing his eyes, the Elder began, “In Speaker history, there is an old story. A legend, probably.”

“I like stories.” Trevor piped in and Maud nudged him gently with her foot, careful not to hit him too badly.

“The story says that a savior sleeps under Gresit, a great hero who sleeps until he is needed, until there is darkness upon the land.” The Elder continued. 

“We’re heard this one before. The Sleeping Soldier.” Trevor interjected, sounding like he believed nothing that was coming out of their mouths. “It’s a local legend. Sounds weirdly convenient to me, if you know what I mean.” He said, setting his hands on his hips and giving them an unimpressed look. Maud rolled her eyes. For a Belmont, the bastard really had a closed mindset.

“Exactly how much do you know about this, sir?” The Elder asked, his voice still calm but Maud knew his patience must be wearing thin. 

“I’m a Belmont,” Maud’s traveling companion revealed, lifting his cloak to reveal the crest on his shirt. “So I know you’re a group of nomadic people who gather knowledge, memorize it, carry complete spoken histories with you.” He listed off, letting the cloth hide his shirt once more. “I _also_ know you carry hidden knowledge and have practitioners of magic in your tribes.” Trevor added, shooting Maud a meaningful glance.

“I thought your family had vanished.” Arn confessed.

“If vanished is the polite way of saying exiled, hated, and _burned_ out of their ancestral home then…” Trevor let out a sharp breath, cooling his features. “Yes.” 

The Elder smiled softly, “Then you know something of magic, and so you know that just because we found a story in our past, it doesn’t mean it originated there.” He hinted. Ugh, Maud hated it when elders spoke in riddles instead of just coming out with it. “The wisest and cleverest of our magicians know that dying is not absolute… That it _is_ possible to hear stories from the _future_.” 

Before Trevor could open his insensitive mouth again, Maud stepped forth. “The missing Speaker. Did they go in search of the Sleeping Soldier?” She asked in a hush. 

“Yes. That one went into the catacombs under the mausoleum west of the church.” The elderly man said, his eyes closed and that melancholic scent back tenfold. “Has not returned.” Maud didn’t miss the way he omitted saying their gender. A woman, then.

“Isn’t there a head man in Gresit you could go to?” Trevor questioned.

The Elder shook his head. “He died in the first horde attack. Our searches have been unsuccessful.” He opened his eyes, staring at them almost pleadingly. “So, what are your plans?” 

“They can wait.” Maud blurted, making Trevor whirl around to stare at her in disbelief.

“No, they _can’t_.” He frowned at her, narrowing his icy blues. “We’ll get some more food and water, and move on.” Trevor told her rather than the Speakers. 

The woman turned to face him, her eyebrows knitting together. “You’d help me, a _stranger_ , just because I reminded you of someone, but not a city full of innocent people?” Maud found herself snarling at him. Trevor didn’t back down and scowled at her.

“They brought this on themselves.” He ground out through grit teeth. “My family were the only people who could’ve fought Dracula and his army, but they didn’t _want us._ They wanted to fight the darkness on their own terms, good luck to them.” Trevor spat, clenching his jaw. 

Maud sighed heavily and rubbed her temples to fend off an oncoming headache. It was nice to have someone who was willing to help her while treating her like an equal rather than with pity, but his stubbornness was getting on her nerves. “Trevor,” She began, mildly aware of the Speakers’ eyes, “I know what the church did was wrong, but the innocent people of Wallachia didn’t have a choice.” 

Trevor shook his head fervently, “There’s _always_ a choice.” 

“The bishop’s word is _law_ around these parts.” Maud said in a quieter voice, taking a few calming breaths. “You know that just as well as I do.”

“We can’t afford to stay, Maud,” Trevor insisted rather than denying her statement. He turned to look at the Speakers, “Don’t be crazy. Leave now, head south and hook up with another train.” He told them.

“Trevor—” 

“It’s his grandchild!” Arn burst, interrupting Maud and ignoring the Elder’s harsh call of his name. “I don’t care! It’s the Elder’s grandchild down there. Who we can’t even _bury_.” The young man’s words only served to confirm Maud’s suspicions. “It’s not our way to just leave our dead unattended to.”

The Elder gave him a somber stare, “We stay for the people of Gresit.”

“Yes, we do. But we also stay because we hope—”

“So, you’re staying to die with the good people of Gresit, not just because it’s a good thing to do, but because you don’t have your grandchild’s body?” Trevor interjected, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“If you want to put it that way.” The Elder confirmed.

Maud turned to look at Trevor, a pleading look in her eyes. The Belmont let out a small groan and dragged a hand down his face. “If we go down there and recover your grandchild’s body, will you _please_ leave? Just wait outside the city, give your aid to the survivors when the night horde just finally rips through the place.” Trevor ordered in a strong voice, defeated. 

Relieved, Maud nodded her head. “Moving immediately would be preferable. We heard people talking in the marketplace, the church has them convinced that you’re to blame for what’s happening.” She explained, this time not bothering to hide her teeth. “They plan to come for you at nightfall. We’ll retrieve your grandchild’s body if you promise to leave before then.” 

“If that is the condition of your recovering, then so be it.” The Elder gave in, a hint of relief in his tone. 

Trevor picked up an apple from a basket and brushed past Maud. “We’re leaving now.” He grumbled, giving the fruit a rub before taking a bite. “Don’t go walkabouts looking for people to give support to. Stay _right here_.” The man said sternly, pointing at the ground. He twisted the doorknob, opening the wooden door a sliver. 

“Belmont.” The Elder called softly, stopping both travellers in their tracks. “It is not dying that frightens us. It is living without ever having done our best.” He explained and it was then that Maud truly understood the Elder, the ghost of a smile lifting the corner of her lips.

“I don’t care.” Trevor muttered and left the Speakers’ temporary home. Maud gave a curt nod before following, closing the door behind herself. Snow was beginning to fall from the skies, their breaths coming out as small clouds. After a moment of silence, the cool breeze tugging at their clothes and hair, he spoke, “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you refuse to stay behind?”

She gave him a toothy grin, “You learn quickly, Belmont.” Maud said, pleased. Trevor hung his head for a moment, letting out a long, suffering sigh. 

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor trevor, don’t you know maud is just as stubborn as you are?


	3. Bestir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He bowed his head and his hair fell over his shoulders to obscure his face like a golden curtain. One of his hands was placed over his heart, right on the thickest part of the scar. Whoever had stricken him had aimed to kill him.
> 
> Maud did not know why it bothered her so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> covid, college and writer’s blocks happened.
> 
> take this, i hope it’s to your liking.

The cold breeze whistled, tugging at their cloaks and playing with the mist that lingered in the cemetery. The large trees loomed menacingly over both of them, their gnarly branches — void of leaves or color — twisting this way and that in their attempt to reach for the sky. White snow crunched under their leather boots, littering the muddy soil and the old mausoleum. All in all, it made for a mildly disturbing scenery, Maud noted after her dulled eyes sweeped the area. She made it a point to push the heavy stone doors open with very little difficulty, flashing Trevor a fanged grin over her shoulder. The man let out a huff and rolled his eyes before stepping into the building. 

Stepping into a mausoleum, although long since abandoned, felt odd for someone like her, if not _wrong_. It was supposed to be a place where humans buried their loved ones under the protection of their Lord in hopes of reuniting in the afterlife. Which is why Maud’s brow furrowed when her eyes fell upon the demons carved intricately on to the walls, their gaping mouths spread into wicked grins filled sharp teeth resembling daggers and their hands curled into dangerous talons. Why the hell would they put such things inside of the building made for the children of God? Maud pursed her lips. The church made no bloody sense—

“Smell anything?” Trevor’s question dragged her away from her thoughts, his deep voice echoing in the empty church. He was looking at her expectantly. Anxiety clawed at her throat and Maud felt a hint of embarrassment, a bit of heat crawling up the back of her neck. She could still grow flushed, it seemed.

“Ah, right. Give me a moment, my nose isn’t what it used to be.” Maud admitted quietly, wetting her lips with the nervous swipe of her tongue. She let her eyes fall closed as she took a deep breath through her nose, filling her lungs to their maximum capacity. She held it there for a moment before exhaling slowly, prying apart the myriad of smells from one another. There was Trevor’s scent — musky and manly with a hint of stale booze and old blood — and the mausoleum’s dusty, humid smell. But, there was also the soft, feminine scent of lavender and roses, still relatively fresh in comparison to the rest. Maud turned her head in its direction, breathing it in once more, and opened her eyes. Relief melted the tension from her shoulders with the knowledge that her senses were not completely gone, despite the growing possibility of her approaching death. 

Trevor followed her stare to the hidden entrance, disguised as another wall besides the statues. His lips lifted into a soft smirk and Maud wasn’t sure if he was silently praising her or just mocking her nervousness. Perhaps both. That fucker. She blew a white strand from her face, unamused. The hybrid crossed the room and reached the passage in a few strides, getting a good grip with her calloused hands to hoist herself up. She’d already lifted herself halfway, her feet already set on the demon’s head to go through the passage when Trevor’s hand wrapped around her ankle, her cold skin greedily absorbing the warmth even through the layers. Maud stopped in her actions, suppressing a shudder, and stared at him in question. 

“Careful.” He murmured and those warm fingers tightened just barely before he let go altogether. She nodded, ignoring the longing in her chest and the cold ache in her joints. Maud peered into the darkness and saw an inclined path rather than stairs. The air within it was still, the cold drafts of air replaced by a constant warmth. Maud slowly slid her feet in and took a deep breath before pushing off the entrance. She slid down the smooth stone, her cloak whipping around behind her as warm air caressed her cold cheeks. It took a handful of seconds before her feet made contact with even ground, the long garment fluttering around her as she delved deeper into the dark halls. Trevor fell into step behind her, the sound of their footfalls bouncing off the stone walls.

The second pair of footsteps halted, making Maud turn around to see that Trevor had stopped to look at the third torch on the left side of the hallway. It was misaligned and damp at the stop, Maud’s nose wrinkling at the smell of— “Fresh oil.” Trevor voiced, taking it into his hand. He took out a small knife from his belt and struck the wall, the sparks causing the top of the torch to ignite. Maud squinted her eyes at the sudden light and turned her head away. She vaguely heard Trevor mutter a small apology over the pounding in her temples.

Maud waved her hand dismissively, “It’s—” Dull silver eyes fell upon the pipe traveling up the wall and into the ceiling. “Fine…” She trailed off with the tilt of her head, eyebrows pulled together in confusion as she approached the pipes. She placed a chilled hand on its surface — no signs of rusting in sight — and momentarily relished in its warmth despite her surprise. “It’s warm.” Maud pointed out while placing her other hand on the pipe. She tried not to sigh in relief as the constant ache of her joints alleviated and turned her head to look at her equally confused companion, “Why is there a piping sys—”

Something rustled a short distance away and Maud jumped back just as Trevor unsheathed his sword. The hybrid swiped her tongue over her lips and flexed her fingers in a vain attempt to keep the blood flowing properly. She threw one last glance at the strange pipe before cautiously following after the Belmont. “I can hear you,” Trevor called out as they slowly went down the steps, “I’m armed, and a lot less happy than you are… so you best stay well out of our way.” 

Maud stopped in her tracks when the Speaker’s scent grew dangerously thin, and hesitated. She grabbed Trevor’s shoulder, her fingers curling into the soft white fur on his cloak to stop him. “Wait, the Speaker’s scent is faint here. We need to go the other way.” Maud spoke in a hush, worried that she’d lose track of the Elder’s grandchild and mildly afraid she’d alert whatever creature was lurking around in the shadows. 

Trevor stared into the darkness while adjusting his hold on his sword, the fingers of his other hand tightening around the torch until his knuckles became the color of untainted snow. “Alright.” He finally spoke while turning on his heels. A thunderous crack sounded from somewhere under their feet and the stone steps shuddered. Maud met his widening eyes and grimaced.

“Shit.” 

The floor cracked and crumbled, sending them plunging into the room below. Her breath got caught in her throat as her world tilted, that godawful squirming feeling in her organs back with vengeance. Amidst the flailing and the falling debris, Trevor’s arm had looped around her waist, mindful of the sharp weapon in his hand. Their boots slammed into the ground and Maud let out a small breath at the stability, but didn’t straighten her spine from their hunched position. 

“Ha! See that?” Trevor grinned smugly, the arm looped around her waist squeezing pointedly, “Reflexes like a cat.” He pointed out with the arrogant jut of his chin, the flames of the torch casting a rather charming glow to his face.

She found amusement replacing the nausea and she didn’t dare fight off the grin that curled at her lips. Their little moment is short lived however, when the floor gave out under them once more. A scream was ripped from their throats this time, the plunge being much deeper than their previous fall. Trevor’s torch was lost somewhere during the fall when they hit one of the pipes only to continue their descent at an alarming speed. Something in the back of her head just _screamed_ at her and Maud found herself tucking Trevor into her chest and taking the brunt of the fall.

It hurt less than she thought it would, but the air left her lungs in a rush nonetheless. She couldn’t help the grimace that twisted her lips and furrowed her brow, her eyes squeezed shut as she lay waiting for the stars to disappear from when she hit the back of her head against a slab of stone. Blood had begun trickling from the cut, a little thing that will sluggishly knit back together soon enough. The sound of Trevor’s groaning ensured that he was indeed alright and it made her discomfort less of a problem. The Belmont also confirmed the fact that he was too fucking good for this shithole of a world when he immediately rolled to the side to avoid crushing her down with his weight and started checking her over. A laugh that was more like a breathless huff left her lips. 

Trevor set his hand at the base of her neck, warm fingers ghosting over her pulse, “Are you alright?” She found his voice to be relatively soothing as the stars dissipated and she could open her eyes.

“M’fine,” There was a nasty little rasp to her voice that indicated that _no, I am not fine and something is definitely broken_. Trevor’s expression twisted further, concern clear in those icy blues. Maud let out another small huff and waved him away as she heaved herself up, joints popping noisily as she went. She rubbed the back of her head, mindful of the knot holding back her dark brown tresses, with careful fingers, grateful her human companion — Belmont hunter or not — hadn’t taken the brunt of the fall. While he probably would have walked it off, it would definitely present to be a problem in the future. Her healing, even as sluggish as it was now, was still better than his.

Her head tilted at the sound of buzzing and she flinched when the oddly shaped torches on the walls flickered to life. Maud blinked slowly as her eyes adjusted to the brightness and allowed herself to gaze upon the source of light. Recognition blazed in her mind, bringing forth the village’s tales of vampiric technology. The electricity hummed, travelling through hidden wires woven within the walls to power up the lightbulbs and illuminate the corridor. Her momentary awe was snuffed the second her eyes fell upon the numerous human sized statues littering their surroundings, one of them smelling strongly of lavender. 

“What the hell…” She found herself muttering, her upper lip curling back at the strange sight of bits and pieces of human anatomy turned to stone. The Elder’s grandchild stood right in the middle, robes frozen in their billowing state and hands held up protectively in front of a shocked expression. 

Trevor marched forwards and tapped the top of the Speaker’s head with the tip of his sword, the sound of steel scraping against stone filling her ears. “Either someone left the statue of a Speaker down here, or…” The Belmont trailed off as heavy footfalls slowly approached, making the ground tremble under their boots. 

Goosebumps rose on every inch of flesh in her body and her dull senses sharpened considerably in alarm. Maud turned to face the creature stomping towards them in large strides with its bulky limbs, its mouth falling open to reveal jagged fangs while its single eye glared down at them. “Might be the cyclops, I think.” The hybrid breathed.

Another layer of the cyclops’ eye slid open with a disturbingly wet sound and a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of pinks, blues and greens swirled in its sclera. Maud would have taken a moment to admire the dangerously beautiful spectacle if not for the fact that it would literally turn her to stone. She dove out of the way despite the protests of her joints, her cloak whipping around at the speed of which she moved to hide behind a column.

“Stone-eye cyclops. Right out of the family bestiary.” Trevor spoke breathlessly in something like disgruntled awe from a few yards away, taking shelter behind another column. “God shits in my dinner once again.” 

Maud inhaled deeply, clenching her jaw and rolling her shoulders. She’d fought witches, warlocks and werewolves— never a cyclops, but there was always a first time for everything. The cyclops prowled closer and all air left her in a sharp hiss as she rolled out of its way, a stony hand slamming down on her previous spot. It was like a game of hide and seek, she thought humorlessly as she took another place to hide, albeit one to the death. Movement from her right made her turn her head to look at Trevor, who pointed at the Speaker before gesturing at her. Ah, he wanted her to take the Elder’s grandchild out of the way. But what of the cyclops? 

Seeing her expression, he lifted his sword and gave a firm nod. All right then. Maud steeled herself and slowly slid around the column, muscles tense at the odd, maddening silence. _Fuck_ , she grimaced, feeling like prey was disturbing. With that thought, she sprinted across the corridor and hefted the statue into her arms as she went. There was a grunt and the sound of something soaring through the air before embedding itself into tough skin, Trevor attacking the creature most likely. Maud skid to a stop in the safest corner she could find without leaving her companion by himself in the corridor.

“Come on! _Come on_! You’re dead! Stop and notice you’re dead…!” Trevor’s frustrated shout reached her ears and Maud turned, only to groan at the sight. Trevor scurried out of the way like a measly mouse as the cyclops fired another beam of colorful light in his direction, the sword stuck in its chest. Muttering a string of curses, Maud set the Speaker against a wall and rushed back to the middle of the room.

“Belmont!” Maud barked, successfully gaining the cyclops’ attention and dodging its stocky limbs as she distracted it. Trevor jumped out of his hiding place, alarmed. “Go for the fucking head, you eejit! Why the hell would you go for the chest?!” She damn near screamed at him in disbelief and irritation, ducking out of a giant hand’s way. 

Trevor’s whip lashed out with the flick of his wrist, wrapping around the hilt of his sword and tugging it free with a small spray of blood. The cyclops stumbled, but made no noise other than a low growl from deep within its throat. Maud found herself baring her teeth on instinct at the sound, snarling in response. “Maud, lift!” Trevor called as he flung his sword up and broke into a sprint. 

Maud bent at the knees and laced her fingers together to act as a stepping stone, heaving the man up as soon as his foot fell on her palms. Trevor flipped in the air with surprising grace and kicked the hilt of his sword, sending it flying with enough force to bury its blade more than halfway into the cyclops’ eyeball. The tall creature collapsed just as Trevor landed on his feet with the gentle flutter of his cloak. Maud cracked her knuckles and flexed her fingers while Trevor coiled his whip to place it back on his belt. 

“We make a good team.” Trevor said after a moment of silence, dusting off his cloak. 

The hybrid tied her hair into a knot again after most of it had fallen during the struggle, leaving the mostly white section to frame her face. She glanced at him, mirroring his oh so small smile, “Mm, not too bad, I think.” The familiar sound of gagging and chunky liquid splashing on to the ground made them pause. The Speaker’s hood had fallen off, revealing short strawberry blonde hair and soft, feminine features. “I was right.” Maud murmured to herself, tucking her arms to her sides to allow her cloak to fall closed.

The pretty Speaker straightened her spine, wiping her lips with the back of her sleeve and staring at the two of them with wide, vivid blue eyes framed by thick lashes. Trevor grunted in the back of his throat, turning to remove his sword from the cyclops’ dim eyeball. “I wish Speakers wouldn’t do that.” He voiced, not at anyone in particular as he inspected the bloodied blade and flicked the offending liquid off with the twist of his wrist.

The young woman’s brow furrowed, “What?”

“Dress the girls like boys.” Trevor elaborated slowly, sliding the weapon into its sheath. Maud pressed her lips together and absentmindedly thumbed at the hem of her trousers. 

“It’s safer when we travel…” The Speaker trailed off as she moved closer to them, looking around the room with a confused expression on her face. “What happened?” She questioned. 

Maud nodded in the direction of the corpse behind herself and looked down at her petite form with dull silver eyes. “You came across a cyclops.” She said in reply, mindful of her fangs. 

“Turns you into stone with its eyeball and feeds on your terror while you’re trapped in your own body.” Trevor added in a low voice, looking as uninterested as one could be. 

“Moved you out of the way lest we used you as a stepping stone.” Maud continued in a small attempt to lighten the mood. 

The smaller woman, a little spitfire it seemed, crossed her arms over her chest. “That would’ve been very rude.” She pointed out in her thick accent and Maud didn’t even attempt to hide her amusement while Trevor started at that with an indignant mutter of _excuse me?_ “Who are you two anyways?” 

Trevor sighed deeply through his nose, “We met your grandfather. We came down here to recover your remains so the Speakers would go to safety.” He vaguely explained.

Her face fell and she uncrossed her arms to point to the path behind her with a slender hand, “But the Sleeping Warrior is still down here.” The Speaker interjected. 

“There is no Sleeping Warrior,” Trevor began as he spread his arms, annoyance seeping into his voice. “Just a cyclops waiting for people stupid enough to go looking.” He turned to stare at her, eyes hard. “It’s a trap for gullible Speakers. You’re not popular around here.” With that, he turned on his heel and started walking away. 

The Speaker’s expression hardened, _stubborn_ written all over her face, “The old wisdom says the tomb is guarded—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Trevor waved a hand through the air as if fiscally batting her words away and turned his head to look at her from over his shoulder. “Come on. Time to go home. Your people think you’re dead, the least you could do is set that old man’s mind to rest.” 

Maud’s eyes darted between them, watching as the Speaker’s expression softened at his words. “He thinks I’m dead…?” She asked softly. 

The hybrid pursed her lips, “Technically, until a few moments ago, you were.” Maud reminded her, kicking a small pebble with the tip of her boot. 

“Killing a cyclops is the only way to restore a victim. Didn’t think we’d manage it.” Trevor added, rather unhelpfully, and eyed his companion from the corner of his eye. Maud let out a small grunt. 

The Speaker wrinkled her nose, “Who _are_ you?” 

“Trevor. Belmont.” He said his last name like an afterthought, looking anything but pleased as he basically spat the word out with venom. Maud shifted her weight and crossed her arms under her cloak, nibbling on the inside of her cheek. 

“But the Belmonts fight monsters.”

_There it is_ , Maud closed her eyes. 

Trevor clenched his jaw and turned his icy blues to the Speaker. “I’m out of practice.” He shot back, temper slowly rising. “Let’s show you to your grandfather, and then you can come down here and get killed again. _Deal_?” It sounded more like a statement than a question, but he asked nonetheless. 

“Very well.” The Speaker spoke in a clipped tone, closing her eyes for a moment before signing and opening them as she placed her hand over her heart. “I am Sypha Belnades.”

“I don’t _care_.”

“I do.” Maud interjected, stepping closer to Sypha. Trevor shook his head and kept walking, rubbing the side of his head. “After all, it’s not every day I come across a Speaker magician.” She added in a quiet voice, giving the younger woman a small smile. 

Sypha gasped softly at the sight of her fangs, awed but not fearful. Maud could smell it clearly; the magic coursing through her veins, simmering just under the surface of her skin. She was young and inexperienced, her magic wild and unrefined, but it had great potential. “You… didn’t tell me your name,” Sypha breathed, blinking her eyes a few times in a row as if to make sure what she was seeing was true.

Maud found herself chuckling, “Call me Maud.” She requested and set a hand on Sypha’s shoulder to guide her after Trevor just as the smell of fresh blood reached her nostrils. “And, please, don’t look back if you wish to leave without an upset belly.” 

Sypha didn’t dare. 

And, in the end, despite the occasional harsh coughing fit and the worried yet stern glares from Trevor, Maud found the trip worth it when Sypha dove into her grandfather’s open arms and buried her face into his chest like a child. She even felt a tinge of homesickness when the elderly man lifted his head to give them a grateful smile and thanked them both genuinely. His scent was no longer ridden with sadness, replaced instead with joy that made his aged heart beat just a bit stronger. 

“You’re welcome.” Both she and Trevor spoke at different times, but they meant it all the same. 

“I failed to find the Sleeper.” Sypha spoke up, closing her eyes as she pressed her cheek against the Elder’s chest, “I’m sorry!”

That tender smile never left her grandfather’s face as he pulled away from her and set his hands on her shoulders, “Hush now, my angel.” 

“I very much doubt there’s anyone down there.” Trevor spoke up, interrupting the soft moment. “It’s probably a booby-trapped legend. There’s someone wriggling with pleasure in his coffin right now thinking of people like your girl walking into the cyclops he left down there.” He continued and Maud reached up to rub the bridge of her nose, sighing softly. 

Sypha turned to him with a mild glare. “Or perhaps there is something down there _so_ important that it must be guarded by monsters.” She pointed out, moving closer in quick, determined strides. 

Trevor stared back at her, unamused, “Your Messiah _isn’t_ down there.”

“And what makes you so sure?” Sypha questioned. 

“You Speakers carry information down through the generations. We Belmonts pass things down as well.” Trevor revealed, his voice loud enough to be heard by all of the room’s occupants. “Do you remember what we saw down there?” He asked Sypha, who averted her eyes in silence. The hunter walked around her, looking over the Speakers, “Metal veins pumping hot liquid? Torches that light by themselves— that exactly fits descriptions written by my great-grandfather. Descriptions of the inside of _Dracula’s_ castle.” 

Maud scratched her cheek and stared at their astonished expressions. “The whole underground of the mausoleum is filled with vampire technology, so unless you are searching for one, then there is probably nothing for you there.” She said in agreement, mildly apologetic as she sensed their disappointment. It was etched on every single one of their faces, clear as day. The Sleeping Soldier had been their last hope. “Now you may focus on packing your things and moving on, like we agreed.” 

“Oh, yes, of course.” The Elder stammered as he regained his composure. “Will you join us until then? To give me the chance to repay what I owe you.” 

She opened her mouth to refuse, but the words were stuck on the tip of her tongue. Instead she dragged a hand down her face and rubbed the back of her neck, shooting Trevor a small grimace. The man frowned back and went to speak, only for Sypha to beat him to it. “At least stay so I can make something for your cough.” She offered, slender fingers curling around the edge of Maud’s cloak to gently coax her further into the room. 

“I suppose I could stay for that.” Maud murmured, letting herself get pushed down on a stool by warm, careful hands. 

“I’ll come back later.” Trevor muttered, sighing tiredly as he turned to the door. “See if you can find some beer for our trip.” He called out over his shoulder, but Maud’s attention had already been stolen by one of the male Speakers placing a warm hand on her cold cheek.

“Mm, that’s nice,” Maud grinned, eyes fluttering shut as she basically melted at his touch.

Trevor rolled his eyes and closed the door behind himself.

Maud felt much better after a massage and the tea Sypha had brewed for her, sitting in a corner while watching the Speakers pack their few belongings and answering their curious questions. _Can you walk under the sun without protection?_ Yes. _Do you drink human blood?_ No. _Where do you come from?_ The mountains on the border of Moldav. _Are there more like you?_ Probably not, no… The hands running through her hair to inspect the discoloration in the front were pleasant, making her eyelids flutter as sleep threatened to take her in its grasp. She must have dozed off for a moment because when she opened her eyes, she saw that the Speakers sat in a circle around her.

She was rubbing her eyes when Trevor marched into the building, looking anything but pleased. The Elder obviously didn’t notice since he smiled at the man, “Trevor, join us!”

Trevor gave them a terribly unenthusiastic smile, “Sure.” He agreed and added, in the same tone as he walked into the room, “By the way, you’re all going to die.” 

Maud rose from her seat, alert, “What happened?” She asked firmly. 

The Belmont crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his back against the stone wall. “The current bishop of this place is… Well,” Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s beyond insane. Over the top and into new lands of snake-fuckingly crazy, and convinced that the salvation of Gresit lays in you people being torn to pieces by a mob.” He ranted, frustration clear in his voice. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Maud exclaimed with a scowl, racking a hand through her long bangs. “And they’re on their way, I take it.” She stated rather than asked and hissed at Trevor’s nod. “Damn. You need to get you out of here, _now_.” The hybrid said sternly, turning to look at the Speakers with a piercing gaze. 

“By the bishop’s logic, you have to die before the night creatures conduct their next raid.” Trevor pointed out bluntly when no one made a move to stand. 

The Elder glanced down at his granddaughter with a thoughtful expression before looking up at them again. “What happens if we stay and survive?” He queried.

“Then the night creatures will tear through this place and kill everything in sight. Whoever is left will blame you and, well,” Maud trailed off with a frustrated sigh, rubbing her temples. “It’ll start all over again.” 

“This feels wrong.” The Elder spoke, sounding awfully tired and letting his eyes fall closed for a moment. “To be driven out by a _lie_ that will doom these people, it is not a Speaker thing.” His voice trembled with emotion, but it was still strong. 

Trevor bristled, jaw clenching and eyes turning into icy daggers. “We had an agreement.” He bit out through grit teeth. Maud shifted her weight from one foot to another, silent as she stared at the Elder with dull silver eyes. 

“I don’t think it’s a Belmont thing, either.” The old man continued softly, as if he had not been interrupted. Trevor’s expression twisted in silent fury, his heart beating away in the confines of his chest. 

“I don’t _care_ ,” The hunter spat, waving a dismissive hand through the air as he stepped closer to the circle of Speakers. “You need to leave, and leave _now_.”

Sypha rose to her feet, raising an arm to point out the window with a determined expression painted over her delicate features. “I don’t think we can leave these people, not in their time of need!”

Trevor moved closer to her, glaring heatedly, “These people believe you’re _causing_ their time of need!”

“Only because they are being misled by the Church.” The Elder interjected, his soft voice serving to calm them, if not mildly. The old man stood and looked at them with his wise blue eyes, still so gentle and filled with kindness despite how he’d been treated by the people he wanted to protect. “Does one run away when someone tells lies about them? What has the Church said about the Belmonts? That you have been corrupted by dealings with the supernatural, that you _mock_ God, that you are a _threat_ to the common good, and that evil follows you wherever you go.” He listed off, his voice unwavering and stern. “And what did you do in the face of that?”

The Belmont looked at him with his icy hues, his dark eyebrows knitted together. “I didn’t run away.” 

“Really?” The Elder asked softly, a hint of mocking in his voice. “So, what are you running to? Did you have a destination in mind?”

Maud turned her head to look at Trevor, only to find him already staring at her with a conflicted look in his eyes. Her eyes darted to the window, pupils constricting at the orange rays of the setting sun, and she hesitated. She probed at her fangs with the tip of her tongue and scuffed the toe of her boot against the floorboards, scratching at her cheek. She thought of agreeing with Trevor, of leaving this damned city behind and moving on before it was too late and she was too weak to go against Crowley, but guilt coiled around her heart like barbed wire and tightened with each thought. Finally, she let out a soft growl that was soon followed by a small, resigned huff. 

“I apologize in advance,” Maud spoke as she turned her head away from the window to face the Speakers, and stared directly at the Elder. “But we have no time to waste on life lessons. The sun is setting and you have to find some place to hide while we and your magician take care of the problem.” She cast Sypha a brief glance, before Trevor’s furious expression came into view. 

“We don’t have time to deal with mobs and hordes— _you_ don’t have time! We go. _Now_.” He said sternly, jaw clenched tightly and icy blue eyes hard. 

He meant well, she knew that, but the darkest parts of her mind bristled at his tone. “I won’t let them fight alone. I refuse to move on with my life knowing I could have done something.” She said strongly, unwavering. 

“You’ll die fighting Dracula’s armies then.” 

“I could die either way, you know that. If not at the hand of my father then you’ll watch me wither away at the end of the damn week.” She shot back, tired of skirting around the fact that she might not even come close to finding her sire in time. Trevor said nothing, but she saw the way the corners of his mouth quivered and his eyes softened almost imperceptibly. Maud spoke again after a moment, her voice much softer, “I’d rather go down fighting for what is right than curled up in a corner, thinking of what could’ve been as my blood seeps from my pores.” 

They stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity, and she watched the myriad of emotions that flashed across his gaze. She was a stranger to him, no one significant, but she knew there was something about her that reminded him of someone. Maud wasn’t so sure this was about repaying a debt to the lycaon species, to the man that had saved him all those years ago. This was something far deeper than that. 

Trevor’s hand went to his belt and gripped his sword, calloused fingers curling around the hilt. 

* * *

“I swear, I just saw it move.” 

Maud rolled her eyes as she swept the room and halls of the catacombs one last time. “It’s been dead for a while now. Whatever you think you saw is either a figment of your imagination or a postmortem spasm.” She called out over her shoulder, eyeing one of the many trails that led further into the labyrinth. 

She’d managed to make a deal with Trevor, but at a price. She would have to take the Speakers to a safe place while Trevor and the Speaker Magician took care of the mobs and hordes. Once she was sure that the Speakers were out of danger, she would join them. Most of them had found spots where they could huddle together, but the rest were jittery, warily eyeing the corpse of the cyclops as if it would jump up and devour them at any moment.

The Elder came to her side with a gentle smile on his aged face, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, my friend, but I believe it is time for you to go.” He hummed lightly. 

A loose smile tugged at her mouth and Maud glanced at the Speaker from the corner of her eye. “Will everything be alright with you here?” She queried softly.

The elderly man nodded his head, tucking his hands into his long sleeves, “You’ve done more than enough.” He reckoned. 

A small laugh, a tad more bitter than she intended, slipped past her lips. “There’s no such thing as enough.” Maud murmured while thumbing the grey fur on her cloak. “You know where to head if anything were to go sour. We will meet again.” She gave her farewells with the small nod of her head before adding as an afterthought, “Hopefully.” There was a little smirk on her face, darkly humorous. 

He didn’t seem to find it as funny, though.

Not in the least, judging by the disapproving shake of his head that reminded her of dear Aunt Ena whenever she caught Maud terrorizing the livestock back when she was just a wean. How nostalgic.

Maud moved quickly, steps silent as she followed the trail she’d been eyeing earlier. She knew she should be going the other way, heading up instead of further into the catacombs, but there was something nagging at her. Like a constant pressure in the back of her mind, insistent and impatient. It had to do with that monstrous side of hers, she knew. If _that_ side was fighting so desperately to find whatever is hiding within these catacombs, despite the illness weighing them down, she might as well comply. 

There was nothing out of the ordinary— nothing she could sense aside from that _feeling_ , anyways. The air was still and stale, warmer than outside. All scents she could’ve tracked before were terribly old, mixing with the smell of dust and thus making them impossible to follow. Following the supernatural counterpart of a _gut feeling_ seemed nonsensical, but here she was. 

Disappointing Mother even when she was not near.

_Steady fingers pulled the thread through the skin, expertly knitting the flesh together while also dabbing up the blood with a disinfected cloth. Maud grunted softly at the sting and Aunt Ena uttered a quiet apology, not looking up from her work. The hybrid pressed another cloth against the cut on her brow, avoiding her mother’s glare by fixing her gaze on the carpet._

_“You promised me.”_

_“I know.” Maud replied tersely and pressed the cloth harder against the cut, partly to slow the bleeding and partly to obscure her mother’s view of her face._

_“You told me you would never set foot outside this mountain again.”_

_The next time the needle broke through the skin, she grit her teeth and hissed out a sigh. “I had to do it.”_

_Alba let out a scoff, casting a sideways glance at the short haired witch watching them warily from her seat, and shook her head. “You lied to me, Matilda. You told me you were going hunting when you were actually running off because of some_ hunch _!” She spat the word, eyes lighting up gold with her anger. “You owe this outsider_ nothing _! And yet you go, fighting without thinking. You could’ve gotten killed—”_

_“I’m dying anyway! Why does it matter if I just speed up the process?!” It slipped out, loud and angry and she didn’t actually mean it, but even Aunt Ena had gone still and Maud knew her words could never be taken back no matter how much she wished for it._

_The look on her mother’s face would haunt her forever._

Her train of thought was cut off by a ruckus up ahead. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her fingers curled into claws, her next steps slow even when her heart picked up the pace. She couldn’t smell anything over the cloud dust and dirt the rubble had kicked up. Maud evened her breathing and, finally, stepped out of the hallway with bared claws and a growl.

Wide icy blue eyes stared back at her.

“Oh.” Maud cleared her throat, tucking her hands into her sides to let her cloak hide them as it fell closed. “I thought you were taking care of the mob, what are you doing down here?” She looked between Trevor and Sypha, who was dusting off her robes. 

The Belmont gave her an even stare and slowly pointed up. She followed his finger and found herself staring at a rather large hole in the ceiling that revealed that the hunter and the Speaker had fallen down _several_ stories, not unlike Maud and Trevor’s first time in the catacombs. 

“ _Again_?” Maud found herself saying, torn between amusement and concern. Her eyes swept over their forms quickly and found them relatively unharmed aside from the lovely bruises that would surely bloom over their skin by morn. “Is this a Belmont curse I should know of?” She asked lightly, only half joking, and continued walking when the insistent tug at her brain became too much to handle.

“Ha. Ha.” Ah, so he got it then. Trevor didn’t seem amused in the slightest, with that painfully short and sarcastic laugh, but he’d understood the joke. That counted for something, right? Sypha was trying, and failing, not to smile even with that amused twinkle in her eyes. 

The chuckle building in her throat died suddenly at the sight of blood red carpets and golden accents leading to a coffin located in the back of the room, bathed in artificial light. Thin, golden pipes stretched across the black tile and connected to both the coffin and the crystal containers filled halfway up with _blood_. That feeling, that little tug, was more insistent than ever now. 

There was a loud clank and the sudden whirring of machinery coming from behind her, causing Maud to turn her head in surprise. She met Trevor’s wide eyes and looked down to find that his foot had sunken in, undoubtedly activating whatever this machinery was. “I didn’t do that.” He said quickly despite his alarmed expression, his eyes darting between her and Sypha.

“You _really_ need to watch where you’re stepping.” Maud muttered as the lid of the coffin let out a loud hiss of steam. The lid slid ever so slowly to the side before falling with a heavy thump. Her heart started beating faster. There was a pause of two, maybe three seconds. She didn’t even _breathe_. 

Finally, a figure floated up from the coffin. It was a slow, effortlessly graceful action. With skin like porcelain and hair of spun gold that shone in the lights, he looked like an angel. However, the gnarly scar crossing his torso and the containers behind him proved he was anything but. 

He bowed his head and his hair fell over his shoulders to obscure his face like a golden curtain. One of his hands was placed over his heart, right on the thickest part of the scar. Whoever had stricken him had aimed to _kill him._

Maud did not know why it bothered her so.

“Why are you here?” He’d asked this softly, but it seemed terribly loud in the silence of the room as his fingers curled into his palm. 

A smile curled at Sypha’s lips, adding to her awed expression. “The story— the Messiah sleeps under Gresit! The man who will save us from Dracula.” She recited from her heart, nearly breathless. 

Maud didn’t miss the hunching of the so called Messiah’s shoulders and the twitch of his knuckles against his scar. His head tilted, and if not for the small movement of his hair she wouldn’t have noticed, “And you? Are you in search of a mythical savior?” His voice grew mocking.

“ _I_ fell down a hole and _she_ ,” Trevor gave Maud a brief glance, the sudden nervousness in his scent alarming, “can’t follow instructions.” There was a forced smirk on his lips even as little beads of sweat collected on his temple.

“ _Ha_.” Maud let out, a heavily sarcastic thing even as her eyes never strayed from the blonde. Trevor could complain all he liked, but their sense of humor was one and the same, bad timing included.

Sypha shot both of them a look before schooling her features and facing her Messiah. “Dracula is abroad in the land. He has an army of monsters.” She began, her voice talking a desperate lilt. “He’s determined to wipe out all human life wherever he finds it.” 

“Is that what _you_ believe?” He questioned.

Trevor scoffed quietly. “That Dracula’s released his horde in Wallachia? That’s a _fact_. There’s no _belief_ involved.” He pointed out, a quiet sort of anger in his words. “But that’s not what you’re asking.” 

“No.”

The hunter’s heart started beating faster and Maud slowly adjusted her footing. “You’re asking if I believe you’re some sleeping messiah who’ll save us, and no,” Trevor’s twisted into a scowl, “I don’t.”

“Belmont!” Sypha exclaimed, shocked.

“I know what you are.” Trevor practically hissed the words out, his fingers curled around Vampire Killer’s handle. 

The man’s lips curled into a dangerous smile that exposed his long fangs. “And what am I?” He asked softly, tauntingly.

A drop of sweat slid down the side of Trevor’s face, his heart erratic in the confines of his chest and loud as a drum. Maud almost mistook it for her own. “You’re a _vampire_.” Somehow, his whisper felt like a shout.

Smiling still, the man raised his head and opened his eyes to reveal a pair of striking golden irises. Sypha gasped and Maud instinctively moved to hide her, shielding her from whatever would occur in the next few moments.

“So, I have to ask myself,” Trevor continued, this time louder and colder, “Have we come down here to wake up the man who’ll kill Dracula, or did we come here to _wake_ Dracula?”

That was definitely wrong, Maud knew that for a fact. This one was too young, a wean next to the knowledgeable man that was Vlad Dracula Tepes.

The smile on the blonde’s face disappeared as he righted his spine to stare down at Trevor. “You call me Dracula.” He stated rather than asked, descending just enough to stare straight at the hunter.

Trevor narrowed his eyes, and sneered, “I’ll call you anything you like if you’re gonna show me your teeth.” 

The vampire gestured at Sypha, who stuck close to Maud’s side, “She called you Belmont.” He raised an eyebrow, “House of Belmont?”

“Trevor Belmont.” The hunter grit out. “Last son of the House of Belmont.” 

“The Belmonts fought creatures of the night, did they not? For generations.” It was more of a statement than a question, a sort of taunting observation. 

He was looking for a fight and, Maud was sure, he was going to get one.

Trevor’s expression tightened. “Say what you mean.” He spoke, marching forwards despite Maud’s pointed glance. 

The blonde levelled him with an unreadable stare. “The Belmonts killed vampires.”

The last Belmont gave a cold smile, slowly circling like a predator cornering its prey. The vampire’s eyes never left him. “Until the good people decided they didn’t want us around.” Trevor shot back, lips curling into a cruel smirk. “And now Dracula is carrying out an execution order on the human race.”

“Do you care?” The vampire asked, raising a hand in a half hearted questioning gesture before letting it fall to his side again.

“Honestly?” Trevor tilted his head, “I didn’t, no. But now… yes, it’s time to stop it.” He turned to the blonde, heartbeat steady and eyes determined. A smile tugged at Maud’s lips, undaunted.

The blonde stared down at him. “Do you think you can?”

“What I think… is that I’m going to have to kill you.” Trevor said in reply, his hand returning to the whip at his hip.

“Belmont, no!” Sypha cried out, “He’s the one we’ve been waiting for.” She pointed out.

The hunter was circling the vampire again, “No, he’s not. He’s a vampire.” He came to a stop and turned to the blonde. “And he’s not been waiting here for hundreds of years, have you?” 

The vampire’s stone cold expression revealed nothing, “I don’t like your tone, Belmont.”

“This place is old, but it’s not been abandoned. It’s alive and working.” Trevor pointed out before gesturing at the blonde with his hand, “So, go on, vampire, tell her how long you’ve been waiting down here.” 

He glanced at Sypha, as per instructed. “What is the year of your Lord?” 

“1476.” Sypha replied, now weary. 

“Hmm,” The blonde hummed and turned his eyes to Trevor, “Perhaps a year, then.” 

Trevor shot Sypha a look. “There. And on top of that, what kind of messiah creates mechanical death traps to buy himself an uninterrupted nap in a stone coffin?” He asked, pointing at the blonde without lifting his left hand from his whip.

“My defenses were not for you.” The vampire corrected.

“You could’ve told your defenses that.” Trevor shot back.

“They are machines, nothing more. They were not intended to protect me from you.” The blonde elaborated, actually sounding a tad annoyed, before fully turning to Trevor. “I asked you a question. Do you _care_?” He demanded, louder.

Trevor froze for a moment, visibility startled, before answering. “I care about doing my family’s work. I care about saving human lives.” He replied before his expression became one of annoyance, “Am I going to have to kill you?” 

“Do you think you can?” The blonde demanded. “If you’re really a Belmont and not some runt running around with a family crest, you might be able to.” His fingers moved and Maud felt the thrum of magic in the air.

“Trevor.” She warned just as a long, thin sword twirled through the air before falling in the vampire’s grasp.

“Stay there.” Trevor ordered without looking at her, reaching for his own sword.

“Let’s find out.” The vampire smirked down at him.

“Belmont, you can’t do this!” Sypha exclaimed and Maud grabbed her arm to stop her from doing anything brash. 

Trevor pointed his sword at him, “Tell that to your floating vampire Jesus here.”

The vampire scowled at him, pale fingers tight around the handle of his sword, “You’ve got nothing but insults, have you? A tired little—”

Vampire Killer lashed out, cracking through the air with enough force to send the blonde flying through the air before he managed to catch himself in a crouch. Trevor smirked, coiling his whip, while the vampire hissed at him. “Stone the fuck up.” He remarked, unimpressed, and cracked his whip again.

It was a dangerous dance of blocking and dodging from both parts. The magic of the sword clashed with the blessed whip, often causing sparks to fly when the two collided. Sypha’s expression twisted into something like horror and desperation, and she turned to Maud. 

“Maud, you can’t let this happen.” Sypha pleaded, fingers curling around Maud’s cloak. 

“He’s not your messiah!” Trevor called out. “Dracula’s castle can appear anywhere, Sypha. And I told you, this is what it looks like on the inside.” 

“And you know what Dracula looks like?” The vampire taunted, blocking another strike with his sword. 

No, he did not. Maud thought that perhaps the Belmonts had at least passed down a portrait of their so-called nemesis. They did not, it seemed.

“Nobody knows what Dracula looks like.” Trevor panted, cracking his whip again and again, “You’ve got fangs, and you sleep in a coffin.” 

They _definitely_ did not.

The vampire dodged again, by a hair’s width, and jumped into the air with effortless grace. Trevor smirked and used his other hand to change the whip’s direction. It cracked, catching the blonde across the chest with enough force to make him cry out as it drew blood. His back slammed against one of the columns on the way down, and it took him a moment to get to his knees, open wounds on his abdomen.

He caught the next hit with his sword, Vampire Killer coiling around the blade. Trevor grit his teeth and pulled at it with both hands in a futile attempt to disarm the vampire. The blonde gave a harsh tug, disarming Trevor in return, to which the hunter responded by sprinting forwards and drawing out his sword.

The vampire discarded the whip and met Trevor’s blade with his own. Their swords clashed and Maud came to the realization that Trevor was vastly outmatched in swordplay. The blonde was quick to use his speed to his advantage to knock Trevor against the steps leading to the coffin with a painful thump. Trevor got up quickly and was more than ready for the next attack, but the vampire was at an advantage with the length of his sword and his superior strength.

Trevor struggled visibly to push him back, his arms shaking with effort as their swords scrapped against one another. The vampire placed his other hand on his blade to push the hunter back and Trevor—

Trevor Belmont, the last son of the infamous family of hunters, _kicked him in the balls._

Maud pinched the bridge of her nose.

If _this_ was her last hope, she might as well pick out that tree now.

“Please. This isn’t a bar fight.” The vampire spat, annoyed and unperturbed, “Have some class.”

Then, Trevor slapped his skull against the blonde’s nose. The vampire grunted and stumbled back, shaking his head before baring his fangs at the hunter. 

Alright, so perhaps there was some hope.

Of course, Maud had to be proven wrong and Trevor was launched back with the flick of the blonde’s wrist before the vampire was upon him.

Make that a bit of hope, then. 

Trevor’s sword finally snapped under the pressure, but not before he made a cut across the vampire’s chest to finish the X. The stupid smirk on his lips meant it was a joke, but, judging by the furious look on the blonde’s face, he didn’t find it nearly as amusing. Finally, he decided to forgo the sword and simply punched Trevor with enough force to send him falling on his back as blood ran down his nostrils. 

He was on top of Trevor in a second, gripping those dark locks in a tight fist to bare his throat for sharp fangs bared in a mocking grin. “Do you have a god to put a last prayer to, Belmont?” The blonde questioned. Maud moved closer, silent and quick, as her claws lengthened into dangerous points.

“Yeah.” Trevor grunted, his lips stretching into a bloody grin, “Dear God, please don’t let the vampire’s guts ruin my good tunic.” 

The vampire’s expression twisted in confusion. “What?” Trevor’s kunai dug into his flesh and the blonde grunted in pain. He hissed and tugged at Trevor’s hair, “I can still rip your throat out.” 

Maud caught him by his own hair and curled her fingers around his throat, claws pressing into his pale skin. He went very still and Trevor grinned up at her. “Think you can do that before I rip yours out?” Maud asked lowly, tightening her fingers just enough to make it uncomfortable. 

“I thought I was your legendary savior.” The vampire spoke, swallowing thickly at the feeling of her claws pressing into his skin.

The hybrid let out a small chuckle, leaning down to put her face next to his, forcing him to arch his back by tugging harder at his hair and making him grunt in discomfort. “ _My_ savior? No, darling, _her_ so-called savior.” She glanced at Sypha and grinned viciously, his eyes falling to her mouth as he caught sight of her fangs. “And she is just about ready to burn you alive for threatening the life of her real savior.” 

The blonde’s eyes met the ball of fire held between Sypha’s fingers. “A Speaker magician.” He realized.

“Yes.” Sypha replied, “And their goal is mine. To stand up for the people.” The stern furrow in her brow softened, her blue eyes darting between Maud and Trevor.

Maud felt the vibrations of the blonde’s chuckle against her fingers. “Good. Very good.” He voiced, closing his eyes as if contemplating his current position. “A vampire hunter, a magician, and the fabled amalgam.” 

Wait.

She let go of him as if she’d been burned, taking a step back and eyeing him warily. The blonde got to his feet, his wounds knitting together in seconds, and turned to face all of them. “I am Adrian Tepes. Known to the Wallachians as Alucard…” He said, glancing at each and every one of them before continuing in a quieter voice, “Son of Vlad Dracula Tepes.” 

_Wait._

“I’ve been asleep here in my private keep under Gresit for a year,” Alucard placed a hand over the scar crossing his chest, “To heal the wounds dealt by my father, when I attempted to stop him unleashing his demon armies.”

The **dhampir**. 

_Her_ son.

“You _are_ the Sleeping Soldier.” Sypha said in relief, lowering her hands to her sides.

He turned to her, “I’m aware of the stories. I’m also aware that the Speakers consider the story to be information from the future.” Alucard said before tilting his head. “Do you know the whole story?” 

Sypha flushed, her cheeks turning pink, “Yes.” She replied reluctantly, avoiding their eyes.

Alucard turned to Trevor, “The Sleeping Soldier will be met by a hunter, a scholar, and a hybrid.” He recited and Maud felt like she was going to throw up, gooseflesh spreading over her body.

Trevor glanced at Sypha, “No one told us that.” He remarked. 

“Why do you think my grandfather tried everything to make you stay?” Sypha shot back.

He stared at her for a moment before letting out a long, tired sigh as he got to his feet. “I hate Speakers.” Trevor uttered. 

Alucard was already tugging on his coat over a white shirt, followed by a pair of gloves. Sypha turned to him, “So, what happens now?” 

“I need a hunter, a scholar, and a hybrid.” 

Maud bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood and curled her toes inside her boots.

“I need help to save Wallachia.” Alucard continued, his sword cutting through the air to sheath itself at his hip. “Perhaps the world,” He added as an afterthought, “and defeat my father.”

Trevor narrowed his eyes at him. “Why?”

Alucard’s head lowered as he went down the steps. “Because it is what my mother would have wanted.” He replied quietly, brushing past them. “And we are all, in the end, slaves to our families’ wishes…” Alucard trailed off, glancing down at the Vampire Killer as Trevor picked it up.

“You’ll help us kill Dracula and save Wallachia?” 

“My father has to die.” Alucard told him sternly before looking at the three of them. “We four… we can destroy him.” 

Maud stared at their backs for moment, silent as she’d been for the past few minutes. Her heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest and she felt more nauseous than before. She looked down and gone were the claws, replaced by fingernails that were turning a concerning purple.

But her mind was on Alucard’s words, her body tensed as she resisted the urge to _flee._

Trevor turned his head, icy blues narrowed in concern, “You alright?” 

She looked up from her hands.

_“If anyone knows what you are before you tell them, run. Run and don’t look back, Maud.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because people like you don’t_ **_exist_ ** _.”_

Maud gave him a small grin, “Never better.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maud literally pulled alucard’s hair and choked him right after meeting him.
> 
> she really did.
> 
> also, have i mentioned how much i love reading your comments?

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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